


mechanical mayhem

by chanshine



Category: NCT (Band), WAYV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Androids, Dystopia, Escape, Explosions, Family, Gen, Machines, Mentioned WayV Ensemble, Prison, Robots, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 11:33:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28581309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chanshine/pseuds/chanshine
Summary: you can't expect a rusty screw to grow wings, no matter how much it wants to leave its cage.he'll never be a bird that soars free through the clouds, but he's okay with that.
Relationships: Liu Yang Yang & Everyone
Kudos: 10





	mechanical mayhem

_[PATROL SEQUENCE INITIATED. UNITS DEPLOYED FOR SURVEILLANCE. REPEAT, PATROL SEQUENCE INITIATED. UNITS DEPLOYED FOR SURVEILLANCE.]_

that wakes him up.

his vision struggles to adjust fully to the world around him, the bleak and monochrome grays and silvers of his surroundings stretching on for miles in the narrow hallway ahead of him. he’s long stopped taking track of how long he’s been here; the construct known as time was quick to fade in face of long days with barely any distinction among them. the distant, automated robotic voice repeats the redundant scheduled announcement falls over the hum of functioning engines. the hiss of steam being blown out the exhaust pipes, the squeak of unoiled parts trying to function as they had before, the groan of the reservoirs under the strain of several gallons of liquid… all come together to form the cacophony of sounds that makes up the machine’s melody.

he, too, was a part of that symphony.

he knows exactly how he ended up here. there was no internal turmoil, no questioning his fate, no wondering where things went wrong. he was no human plagued with the philosophy of existence, he had already been programmed to be able to identify the cause to an effect. his databank has every memory stored perfectly, as clear as the skies on a sunny day and yet this particular one transcended that amount of clarity.

perhaps, once upon a time, there was purpose to his creation. there was reasoning behind the oil that ran through his bodice like blood to a human. however, all things faded with time even to a timeless creature like him. be used and succumb to wear, be unused and succumb to rust─ cruel is the life of a machine. it had taken him so long to realize the fallacy in his thinking. he didn’t see it when his own creator looked at him with distaste and called him scrap metal, nor when he was thrown behind the iron bars of his dingy, cramped cell. no, it was when he landed roughly on the floor from the force of impact. a lone, rusted screw that had already been loosened from natural movement escaped his body and rolled along the cobblestone. as he watched it come to an eventual stop, he finally knew.

even something as miniscule as a screw had a purpose: to support something much greater than life itself and hold it together. but for he who had been locked away, for he who was deemed a failed piece of technology and was simply waiting for reassembly to be the predecessor to what he couldn’t be… what purpose was left?

unused joints creak dreadfully as his body struggles to catch up to the commands his central system gave. it had been so, so long since he stood upright like this. he was degrading by the second, the force of his body almost making his knee pistons buckle and send him back to the hard stone that would dent him even further. thankfully, he manages to stabilize himself before he breaks out of his flimsy restraints and runs one now free hand over the mossy walls. temptation seeps through the crevices of his damaged self, and in that moment he decides to go against his own hardwired programming. as he takes a deep breath in preparation, the rust encasing his body begins to crack and peel away. miserable was the shedding of copper snakeskin, but lying beneath the torturous wrapping… was him.

and he was yangyang. a corroded screw, tumbling along the ground. no purpose, no reason, nothing to support.

even then, he still finds reprieve in the glimmers of hope in the form of sunlight peeking through the cracks in the walls. _if he could just... perhaps?_ he trails over the crumbling brick, searching, feeling for signs of weakness. the sensors in his fingers linger over one such spot, and he braces himself as he lets the familiar tendrils of his own energy running down the wires from his core to his outstretched hand. he may have internalized his current worthlessness, but then again machines were initially made with certain capabilities in mind. like this one.

there was no ringing in his ears when the explosion happened. there was no shielding his eyes with his arms, no protecting his vitals by curling in on himself, no retreating to the far corner to avoid the brunt of the blast. yangyang was a destructive robot made to withstand his own power, after all. even as spare shrapnel hits and bounces off the metal plates of his skin and as debris flies everywhere to barely obstruct his vision, he remains unfazed and instead stares at the dark clouds and faraway city lights.

this tower was tall, frighteningly so. he could barely see the bottom, and that wasn’t just the dust from the shaking of the now unstable ceiling. briefly, he wonders if he should stop himself. it would certainly not be an easy feat. when… _if_ he even survived the fall, the ground was littered with patrolling guards anyway. he had no idea how near or far safety was, nor did he know which direction he should go in. he had barely left his prison, even when he was still free. 

_“lofty are those that build their tower, foolish are those that climb after.”_ he had done neither, so what was he?

_[ROGUE UNIT DETECTED. INITIATING TERMINATION PROTOCOL ACCORDING TO REGULATION.]_

he grits his teeth and swiftly twists around, wasting no time in firing a few warning blasts. he never really liked hurting the guards, they were fellow machines after all. all he could do was aim at their feet, forcing the floor to give out and leaving the ground to swallow them whole. he doesn’t have the luxury to dwell in the impending morality reflection, so he analyzes something else instead.

airspeed velocity: dangerous.

impact on landing: immense.

effects on structural integrity: unknown.

chance of survival: minimal.

_[RESUMING TERMINATION PROTOCOL.]_

it would certainly be foolish to even consider attempting this. alas, fate had not blessed him with a sharper intellect.

“don’t miss me too much,” he calls out to no one, pretending the incessant squeak of an unoiled gear was a reply. “i’ll be leaving you with the yangyang you know!” he glances at the rusted screw, smiles, and leaps.

one second, he’s suspended in mid-air. the next, he’s hurtling towards the ground and accelerating at an alarming rate. a chuckle bubbles out of nervous lips, tentative and unsure before dissolving into full blown laughter. as he had thought, his programming wasn’t meant to withstand stress of this magnitude. he ignores the way his predictive functions scream, ignores the literal sirens in his head wailing for safety. he instead relishes the likeness of an adrenaline rush in the form of his systems vigorously pumping fuel to all parts of his body to give him the power to do something, anything to get himself out of this situation. he felt animated, he felt tangible and mortal and it was only accentuated by the impending threat of his demise. how ironic that death would make him feel alive.

his glee may have been imagined, but gravity’s surefire grip on him was not.

he was a machine, yes, but he can’t predict everything. he certainly does not predict how his body withstands the impact. it was nothing short of a miracle. he certainly was not unscathed, if the awful crunch of him hitting the solid concrete was anything to go by. he sustained structural damage heavier than ever before, but he was alive. he was still functioning, albeit just barely. he doesn’t know if his internalized worthlessness caused him to underestimate himself, or if his systems truly surprised him.

he also doesn’t know if he should thank them for holding on, or if he should resent them.

before yangyang can come to a decision, he notices another robot in a similar state of disrepair far off into the distance. they looked to be of similar models, _like brothers_ , he realized. the large letter v marking the other’s hunched and likely broken back was a clear indication of such. he notices the broken legs, likely from doing the same thing he had just done. he also notices the encroaching pursuers coming from the entrance of the tower, likely to search for he who had just jumped. yangyang could still walk. he could still move, and that was enough. _that was more than enough_ , he thinks as he drags himself over to the other.

before he knew it, a smile had made its way onto his face. the sight that was made to tease, torture and destroy him merely filled him with simple joy. it would be so easy to mistake this happiness for sadism, for a cruel and perverse penchant for morbidity that hadn’t quite been diluted when it was passed down from their human counterparts. and yet, it was not that at all. it was something else entirely, filling his systems with the distinct sweetness of serotonin and relief. the meaning behind his creation… he’s found it. the fallacy he had held onto for so long turned out it was true.

yangyang may just be a corroded screw, but at least he’s found something to hold together. because that’s what you do for family, right?

**Author's Note:**

> haha dystopian robot au go brr
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/SH10NSHINE)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.qa/SH10NSHINE)


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